


Nice Day for the End of the World

by Netgirl_y2k



Series: the one where Shaw takes the zombie apocalypse in her stride [1]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, F/F, Girls with Guns, Huddling For Warmth, brief appearances by the rest of Team Machine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 19:58:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5103854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Netgirl_y2k/pseuds/Netgirl_y2k
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm checking you for zombie bites, Root, this isn't a striptease."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nice Day for the End of the World

"Dammit, Root!" Shaw cursed, glaring through her rifle's scope.

Root wasn't a marksman; before the end of the world she had preferred her taser, and when backed into a corner she still had a bad habit of aiming for the center mass.

"Dammit, Root, take the head shot!"

Shaw squeezed off a shot, and cursed Root again; ammunition for the rifle was harder to come by than bullets for their handguns. The first zombie dropped like a rock, and Shaw's intervention seemed to startle Root into remembering herself, she raised her arm and fired a single round between the second zombie's eyes.

Root looked up at where Shaw was perched on the roof corner of an abandoned big box store; from this distance Shaw couldn't see her face, but she knew Root was grinning.

Shaw scanned the parking lot for any more of the shambling undead, and when everything looked clear she packed up the rifle and climbed down, muttering about Root under her breath.

*

Shaw and Cole had been in the States dismantling a militia group that was dipping its toes into domestic terrorism when the dead started to rise.

It had been a boring ass mission with nowhere to get a decent steak, but it did mean that when the zombie apocalypse started they were surrounded by people who had guns and knew how to use them.

People shied away from calling them zombies. Cole had called them _infected_ , Shaw had heard _walkers_ used too, but dammit, Shaw had seen movies, and these were zombies.

*

"How many times do I have to tell you, Root?" groused Shaw as they searched the empty aisles of the store; the food and booze had been picked clean by earlier scavengers, but what they were really after was warmer clothes; the weather was turning and they were heading north. "It has to be a head shot or they'll just keep coming."

"I know, Shaw," said Root, sounding entirely too cheerful for a woman who had come within an inch of being eaten alive. "Just like I knew you were watching over me."

"Yeah, I was watching you waste bullets by firing two guns at once when you can hardly aim one."

"I can aim," said Root, shrugging into an oversized parka.

"Then aim for the head next time," said Shaw, trying to glare and tug a woolen hat down over her ears at the same time.

"I bet you enjoyed the view, though."

*

Shaw had once made the mistake of telling Root that she thought the two guns thing was kind of hot.

In her defence, she hadn't really known Root then, they hadn't been nearly so short of ammunition, and it had been back when they were both getting more regular access to running water.

*

Shaw first met Root in a psychiatric hospital that she was looting for drugs; the dead were walking, and a little something to take the edge off eased your path with practically anybody.

If it hadn't been the same week that she'd been forced to put a bullet in Cole's brain she probably would have left Root there, barricaded into the head psychiatrist's office with her dying computers and a supply of happy pills.

But putting Cole down had knocked Shaw off kilter, and she'd gotten used to having someone to watch her back, so she ended up with a perky psycho of her very own.

She swiped Root's notes from the hospital, too.

"Delusions of grandeur?" Shaw read aloud with a raised eyebrow.

"They're not delusions if you really are that good," said Root.

"Modest, aren't you?"

"Does it bother you, Shaw?"

"What the hell. It's not like I didn't already know that the inmates were running the asylum."

*

The third apartment that they broke into had been turned upside down, probably when the previous occupants had left in a hurry, but there wasn't any blood on the walls or body parts in the bath, which put it ahead of the first two apartments they'd tried.

Back when it had been Shaw and Cole breaking into abandoned homes, Cole had always taken the floor; he'd been squeamish about sleeping in the beds of people who were probably dead.

Root not only didn't have a problem sleeping in their beds but she'd found a pair of men's silk pajamas to wear; she was having to clutch the pants up around her prominent hipbones, but they were only a little too long in the leg because Root had won the genetic lottery when it came to height.

"You'd better hope we don't have to clear out of here quickly," said Shaw, turning back to the window.

"Come to bed, Sameen," Root wheedled. "You don't have to keep watch tonight. This entire one horse town is abandoned."

Root had tucked herself in all cozy, and she turned on her side to face Shaw. It could almost have been before the world's end, the only thing ruining the picture was the taser Root clutched.

Tasers couldn't hurt zombies, but the undead weren't the only threat out there.

Most of the people Shaw met these days were just confused and scared and ready to fear bite; on the road most survivors were either trained operatives like Shaw or people like Root who were too crazy to realise that they should have died.

But like in all chaotic situations there were a few monsters who had risen to the top by feeding off people's fear and desperation.

Not long after they met Shaw and Root had passed through a town were they had resorted to women as currency so fast that the 'mayor' must have been pretty close to the idea even before the zombies, and he'd taken a liking to Root. The guy had been dead by the time Shaw caught up with them; Root hadn't needed Shaw to tell her that a taser could be used to induce a fatal cardiac arrest.

Shaw kicked off her boots. "Have it your way," she said, sliding into bed next to Root.

Root hummed, scooting over so the length of her was pressed up against Shaw's back; Root never could get warm enough. She valued the hearing in her good ear too much to wrap her arms around Shaw, but all that meant was that her taser was jammed against the small of Shaw's back.

"Well, this is relaxing," Shaw said dryly.

*

Shaw had been very scientific in her study of how to stop the zombies. Electricity, drowning, and strangulation were useless. Beheading and catastrophic brain injuries would do in a pinch; but given that their bite was a death sentence it was better not to risk getting their blood in your mouth or eyes.

"You could wear goggles?" Root had suggested. "Safety first."

Shaw preferred a single shot to the brain.

*

When the dead rose, infrastructure fell fast. Shaw had never had a very high opinion of people, but damn, she would have thought civilisation could have hung in there for six months or so.

The ISA had always contacted Shaw and Cole when they had a number for them, and they had no idea where Research was located to check in.

Short of any other ideas they tried military bases. The first one they came to was infested with zombies; some stupid jarhead had hidden that he was bitten. The second base they tried was commanded by a twitchy, sweating colonel who had his men shooting at anything that moved, and they'd been lucky to be allowed to walk away without taking a bullet.

The third base was a Marine Corps base where they'd have been welcome to stay and make themselves useful. But Cole had been determined to try and make for New York and his parents, and Shaw had figured it was better than sitting around waiting for the base to be overrun.

Shaw's USMC tattoos had bought them weapons, food, and water, and they'd set out for New York.

After Cole was bitten - he hadn't lied, hadn't hidden it, had asked Shaw to put a bullet in him - she had kept angling towards New York. Cole's parents were almost certainly dead, had probably been dead since before Shaw, Cole, and the militia group had parted ways at gunpoint. But making sure seemed as good a way to honour his memory as any.

Root was heading for New York, too.

"There's something there. Something very special."

"Oh, yeah?"

"In the hospital, before the computer networks went down, there was something there, something reaching out... I was _this_ close."

"You know, Root, sometimes I forget how crazy you are, and then you go and say something like that."

*

"I'm checking you for zombie bites, Root, this isn't a striptease."

Root pouted, arched her back, and stripped out of her shirt and bra with exaggerated slowness.

Shaw grabbed Root by the hips, mostly to stop her swaying them.

There weren't any bites on Root's chest or arms. "Turn around," Shaw ordered.

She gathered Root's long hair to one side, and ran her fingers from the nape of her neck down to the small of her back; she could feel the knobs of Root's spine beneath her skin.

"Now your pants."

"You only ever had to ask," said Root, looking over her shoulder and smirking.

Shaw rolled her eyes; even Root couldn't make hopping on one leg and then the other to take her boots off sexy, but that didn't stop her trying.

Root was left standing in an empty interrogation room of a disused police station wearing nothing but threadbare cotton underwear.

They'd come to the police station looking for weapons. Shaw hadn't held out much hope, most stations had been picked clean months ago, but this one had turned out to be the mother lode of guns and ammunition. It had quickly become clear that the reason nobody else had got to this stash first was that the place was completely infested with zombies; Shaw guessed that somebody with a bite had been thrown into the overcrowded holding cells.

Shaw dragged her eyes from Root's smirking face, down her throat, noted that her collarbones and hips were starting to jut unhealthily, and down her stupidly long legs. She hadn't been bitten.

"You're fine."

Root opened her mouth to reply and then thought better of it-- "Too easy." She looked Shaw up and down, a cat that got the canary grin spreading across her face. "Your turn."

"I didn't get close enough for any of them to bite me."

Root pouted theatrically. "Turnabout is fair play, Sameen."

*

One thing that could be said about life in the zombie apocalypse was that it wasn't complicated. It was all about satisfying your basic needs: food, water, shelter, safety, sex; that last one was where Root came in.

And Root _was_ hot. Okay, it was a crazy ass violent, not eating properly, washing with rainwater kind of hot. But still...

"Do you like to be tied up, Sameen?" Root whispered, her lips brushing the shell of Shaw's ear.

Shaw's breath caught in her throat because that was exactly what she liked. She liked all sorts of things that she hardly ever got to have. Most guys were afraid of hurting her, or liked hurting her too much. And women had a terrible tendency to get _feelings_ all over the place.

Root, though...

But the end of the world was no place to get naked, tied up, and _loud_. The places where they spent their nights were often dirty, cold, and occasionally home to a zombie or two.

The sex mostly goes like this: pressed up against a wall; Root's breathing hitching in Shaw's ear, Root's teeth and nails scrabbling against whatever bits of Shaw's skin she could reach through their layers of clothes; Shaw's hand jammed down Root's unzipped pants, her fingers rubbing frantically between Root's legs, the only part of the other woman that ever seemed to be warm enough; both of them listening for the first hint of shambling movement.

*

New Jersey in winter, and they'd taken shelter in a disused power station. Root's teeth were rattling. Actually, Root's everything was rattling, and she was so pale she was almost blue.

"Alright, make room," said Shaw, clambering into the sleeping bag alongside Root. She rubbed Root's icy hands between her own, she blew on them. "You're freezing."

"Bad circulation," said Root with a weak smile

Shaw pulled Root against her until Root buried her face in the crook of Shaw's neck; her nose was cold against Shaw's skin. Shaw wrapped her arms around the shivering woman and rubbed her back.

"If you say anything about cuddling, Root, I swear that I will tie you up and leave you here for something to snack on."

Root shook against Shaw in half shivers and half silent laughter.

*

Shaw had long planned what she was going to do once she reached the outskirts of New York. She would verify that Cole's parents were dead, see if there was anything worth scavenging, maybe cap a zombie or twelve, hope to find a car that still ran, and head out for the next city over the horizon.

Somewhere in the middle of all that she'd thought to tell Root that she could come too if she wanted.

Instead she found herself following Root into the five boroughs proper.

Big cities were breeding grounds for zombies; too many people crammed close together, too many places where the undead could lurk, too many dead-ends. New York had once had a population of eight million, and it was no surprise that any survivors had cleared out.

Shaw and Root advanced through the eerily empty streets with their handguns drawn; Shaw crossed behind Root so as to cover Root's bad ear.

They traded off turns sleeping while they were in the city. Shaw was woken by Root shaking her and whispering urgently, "Shaw! Shaw, wake up."

Shaw's gun was in her hand before she was fully awake. "What is it?"

"There are lights on in Manhattan. Somebody over there has a generator, a lot of generators."

*

A tall guy in a well-worn suit, along with a black woman and a heavyset white guy whose demeanors screamed _cop_ , surrounded them as they picked their way through the smashed cars in the Midtown Tunnel _._

Root put her guns up; Shaw didn't. "Use your words, Sameen."

"Fine," said Shaw, keeping her gun trained on tall, dark, and obviously former CIA. "We have weapons, drugs; I went to medical school if you've any use for a doctor."

"We do," said the woman. "But first we'll need to check you both for bites." She gestured for Root to move behind the semi-privacy of a wrecked car.

"You want to wait for Carter?" the tall guy asked.

"I doubt I've got anything you haven't seen before," Shaw said, lowering her gun and heading over to the other side of the tunnel.

"I'm John," the tall guy said as Shaw briskly shed her clothes.

"Shaw," Shaw grunted, pulling her shirt over her head. She looked across the tunnel to see that Root was stripping in an equally businesslike fashion, though it was probably the cold more than anything else that was stopping her from screwing around.

"You're a doctor?"

"Among other things."

"Things like the Marines?"

John's eyes had tracked to Shaw's USMC tattoos. "You're observant," she said with a snort.

"This one's clean," Carter called out.

"This one too," said John. "You can put your clothes back on, and you can stop averting your eyes, Fusco."

The heavyset guy - Fusco - had stayed in the middle of the tunnel, staring at his shoes, but with his finger next to his weapon's trigger.

"How did you know where to find us?" Shaw asked.

Carter nodded at Root. "Your friend here is expected."

"Expected by who?"

"Their boss," Root answered smugly.

John huffed. "More like our boss's boss."

*

"You're so _beautiful_ ," said Root in tones of rapture.

Shaw didn't know if she'd be any less creeped out if Root had been addressing the earnest looking middle-aged guy in the glasses rather than his computer system.

"You're not the jealous type are you, Shaw?" She glared at John, whose mouth twitched into a smile. "It's like you said, I'm observant."

Carter and Fusco had both gone to check on their respective kids, but before dropping Shaw and Root off in this disused subway station they had filled them in a little.

Short version: Manhattan was home to a server farm that hosted what had once been a better than state of the art surveillance system; it couldn't see beyond the island now, but it had helped them clear the zombies one block at a time, it alerted them to anyone who'd been bitten, and helped them, in John's words, _stop_ _bad_ _things_ _before_ _they_ _happened_.

"Mr. Reese, why don't you take Ms. Shaw somewhere where she can get a meal and a hot shower?"

"Sure, Finch."

Root glanced up from the computer she was cooing over. "I'll see you at home, sweetie."

Shaw opened her mouth to say that she hadn't decided if she was going to stay in Manhattan, never mind if she was going to stay with Root. But Reese was giving her a knowing smirk; food and a shower did sound good, and she could ask around on the off-chance Cole's parents had made it to this safe haven.

Knowing Root, she wouldn't listen to any of Shaw's objections anyway.

"Whatever," she said, turning to leave. "I take it your new friend Skynet will tell you where to find me."


End file.
